The Boy
by Mostlymakebelieve
Summary: *Wendy Moira Angle Darling, at 1900 hours on the eve of her 18th birthday with one hour until she would meet her soon to be husband, killed herself.* After six years of being convinced that Neverland was fake, Wendy finds a way back. Peter/Wendy Modernish
1. Chapter 1

**THESE CHRACTERS ARE NOT MINE (would if I could)**

Wendy Moira Angela Darling, at 1900 hours on the eve of her 18th birth day with one hour until she would meet her soon to be husband, killed herself. She was holding her father's Browning L9A1 in her right hand, in the other she held a red moleskin journal with a name inscribed on the cover. "Peter" It was titled in her flowing handwriting, written with a purple sharpie. She had practiced for months before putting any words in the notebook. She only wanted the best to be written in the book.

She closed her honey brown eyes slowly, savoring the last view of the nursery that she had practically grown up in. The carpet, a soft heather gray that pushed between her toes, was the last thing she ever saw of that room. She had never actually considered the idea of killing herself before that specific day, but she awoke with an unexplainable feeling of dread that clung desperately around her in a fashion that she couldn't quite understand. She was a day away from being a real adult and nothing was turning out the way she wanted. Mostly because of the very moleskin journal she had toiled over for almost six years.

She could just barely hear the sounds of the party taking place two floors below her. They were celebrating her, and all she could imagine was the scrapping at the window that had haunted her every night for almost six months.

So, on the last page of her notebook, she had dutifully written in large red pen "HOOK."

Coincidentally, exactly three hundred miles away, on the Autoroute du Soleil on his way to Paris, France, the same Peter that her notebooks were so devoted to ran his silver Twingo off the road, going 85 miles per hour. He had fallen asleep listening to quiet Mozart Concertos and smoking a fair amount of Northern Lights marijuana. Peter Payan had turned 17 two weeks before and celebrated by pretending he ruled the world with all his friends. He stared blankly and unseeing at the semi barren land before him, and dropped a joint right into his lap the burning end hitting his thigh and waking him just as his car careened over and into a large ditch that seemed to be patiently awaiting him.

It would please many people to hear that his life flashed before his young eyes, so he could see a glimpse of a girl he had loved very much, but the last thing he ever saw was a streak of silver as something curved and metal flashed in the ditch. His senses dull he couldn't quite make out the feeling of dread that hung low in his stomach, causing a fair amount of his large breakfast to dislodge itself, before everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

"It's good that you're awake."

"No, I'm supposed to be dead," Wendy responded halfheartedly, imagining that the voice was her father because the alternative seemed almost too much to bear.

"That is one way to stay young forever. However, I always thought that was Peter's business." Captain James Hook, grimaced, mocking her.

Wendy's throat immediately went dry, her heart thundered against her ribcage with a fear she had only known in dreams. "Hook!" gasped the girl as she clutched indignantly to the blue shards of the nightgown she had worn all those years ago. She really wasn't as surprised as she thought she ought to be though. She imagined that all those dreams of his attack had kept her rather open minded about her predicament.

Besides, she was almost positive, at this point , that she had succeeded in her effort to kill herself.

"Aye, Wendy, it is dear girl. You didn't forget me I see." His grin stretched ear to ear and he took one, two, menacing steps forward, grabbing her chin in his large calloused hand. She suddenly felt very cold and very alone; she was remembering the last time she had been tied to the mast of this ship, and that then she had been very courageous.

"How could I for-" She tried to come up with a comment worthy of her former self, but the hand he had rested upon her cheek quickly fastened around her throat.

"Oh, Wendy Darling," Hook grimaced, his eyes flashed red "You think I don't remember that mouth of yours?"

Wendy was ashamed, her fear held back her tongue. She knew she could bite out a scathing remark because he only held with one hand, but at the end of the other wrist was something far more menacing.

"What's the matter?" Smee chuckled from behind her, a mischievous glint in his eye "Hook got ya' tongue?"

"No. Alligator." She choked out around his grasped hand and suddenly he leapt away from her.

"What?"

"Sarcasm I think sir, there's no alligator around anymore, we got 'im last time, don't ya' remember sir?"

"SILENCE! Smee…" Hook leans in and whispers something into Smee's ear, a wicked grin curling around the edge of his lips.

"Bring out The Boy." Smee calls.

"The Boy. The Boy. The Boy." All the other pirates chant, shoving their arms in the air, fists clenched.

Their words beat like her heart. The Boy. The Boy. The Boy. Ba Dum. Ba Dum. Ba Dum.

"PETER!" she screamed as they pulled out a large wooden plank, the size of a door, with The Boy tied on the top. "Oh God, Peter." They propped the board up near so that she could get a good look at him. Bruised, bloodied, and completely broken. The board was stained where he had bleed, and defecated. After they had put him down the Pirates gave him a wide birth, for he stank of feces and rotting flesh.

"You killed him!" Wendy bellowed, and every possible combination of rage, despair, and guilt echoed out of her simultaneously.

"No, not yet Miss. Darling, I was waiting for you before we let our guest of honor go. We're going to make him… well; he can't exactly walk the plank now." Hook flashed a crooked smile and with his shining hook he cut the ropes around her. "Run to him, Wendy," He snarled, grabbed Wendy by the hair, and hurled her at Peter.

The Pirates sniggered and watched in disgust as Wendy groveled at Peter's feet. They hissed and laughed when the smell made her gag, and tried to keep their eyes on her.

"Peter…" Her entire chest burned as she brought herself up on her shaking legs "You need to listen to me Peter, I have a plan but you must be awake, oh Peter, you just must."

"Mademoiselle, I don't know who you are, mais je suis morte."

"No! No, no, no, no, no, you are not! S'il vous plait, Peter. Je suis Wendy! Wendy! Please remember." Her lip quivered, and even though none of the Pirates understood what they had been saying, all of them shuffled uncomfortably.

"Wendy…" Peter sighed "une nomme tres belle."

Wendy stood, pulled herself to her full height, and turned on James Hook "Do wish me to walk the plank again Hook? While you know Peter cannot save me? Throw us off together; let us die the way we should have lived."

Hook rolled his eyes and pulled Wendy back by the hem of her night gown, it ripped almost off. The Pirates hollered in approval, made cat calls, and mimed gross sex acts at the sight of her bare thighs. "You think im going to give you what you want?" He snarled "After everything? Look at him Wendy, really look at him. Tell me, what do you see?'"

"You're a monster." She bit out the words and stared him straight in his cool blue eyes.

"No, you stubborn female, really look at him." With a jerking motion Hook turned Wendy back to Peter, and forced her to stare right at him.

At first her eyes went to his hands, looking for evidence of Hook's vengeance, and found none. Then, to his face, where she saw, in his partially opened eyes, their perfect shade of cat green; she racked her eyes down to his broad shoulders and well defined chest. That's where she stopped. '_Broad chest? Defined muscles?'_ Her brain screamed that it must be a trick, so without any real effort her eyes trailed down between his legs. She gasped audibly.

"What did you do?" She screamed, whipping around to meet eyes with the Captain, and with an act of Bravery she wasn't quite accustomed to, she reached quickly for the hilt of the sword, pulling it out of his belt. She pointed the tip at his chest and breathed heavily "What have you done?"

"Well, this is a turn up, I thought you'd be pleased, but I'll have you know, I've had nothing to do with this." He sighed, as if he wished very much that ruining Peter Pan's wish to never grow up had in facet been a scheme of his.

"He's…"

"A man, Wendy." Hook stood and took in my despair with a pleasant grin,

"A MAN!" Three voices shouted simultaneously, as three preteen boys fell from the rigging.

"You'll die for this, Hook." Snarled the darkest voice.

"Ah, the Lost Boys, how nice of you to join us, as you can see, Wendy's got check mate at the moment, but if you'll just give me a sec-" He had planned on using her distraction to take his sword back, but in a movement she had learned from Peter, swished it away from his grasp, leaving a gash down his shirt and chest in the process.

"Mother?" Curly asked as he stepped forward, wielding a large club.

"Get them!" Hook shouted from his position on the ground by Wendy's feet.

Wendy's heart pounded heavily and loudly in her ear as Pirates drew their weapons and surged on the four, _five if you count the invalid, _She thought, and casted a glance towards Peter.

"We can handle them. Get Peter." Slightly shouted as he buried his dagger hilt deep into one of the mangy pirates.

Wendy hadn't quite known how to execute that order, but she did what she felt made sense. She would later regret that. She used Hook's sword and slashed through the ropes holding Peter to the board, and heaved herself and Peter over the side of the boat.


	3. Chapter 3

_With the alligator gone there should be nothing to worry about,_ Wendy consoled herself as she tried her hardest to keep both Peter and herself afloat as she attempted to do a one armed back stroke. "Oh, Peter." She mumbled into the ear of the unconscious boy. The pain as they hit the water had proved too much and he had practically shrivelled on impact.

The water of the sea had heated unevenly and every few seconds she would kick her leg and find a bubble of water as cold as ice. She imagined it must be the result of some, sort of wild life, and kicked even faster. Wendy could not remember much about Neverland marine life, only the alligator and the trickster Mermaids.

Her heart seized. _Fucking Mermaids, _because she knew at once that's what was following her. They were playing with her, trying to see how far she could make it, but Wendy knew the game couldn't last.

"All you have to do is wake up and make some clicking noises, maybe hiss a bit, and then they'll go away, Peter." She begged him quietly, holding him tightly to her chest. Something slapped the water near her head, sending droplets of water into her face, and her eyes. Wendy kicked harder to get away from it, whatever it was, while the stinging in her eyes made it near impossible for her to open them.

"Oi, Wendy, it's a buoy, hold on!" Slightly called, and when Wendy opened her eyes, there was indeed and red a white stripped buoy floating next to her.

"Thank god." She mumbled, linking her other free arm around the circular floatation device, and allowing the Lost Boys to pull her to the stolen life boat. Suddenly the water was freezing and Wendy began to kick frantically, trying to beat the mermaids.

"Wendy, slow d-"

Just when Curly let out his warning, Wendy gave one last burst with her legs, and promptly smacked into the side of the ship, forehead cracking audibly against the wooden planks.

"We got him, Wendy, come on." Slightly looked over the side of the ship, just when Wendy was pulled underwater by the lurking mermaids.

A flashing silver hand, cold as a block of ice, and slimy as the sea weed she dwelled in, clasped around Wendy's ankle. Wendy flapped her arms erratically, trying to keep herself afloat while sucking in a large gulp of air.

The black water emerged over her head and the current beat at her face as she was pulled further and further away from the sun light. _Aw, fuck. _Wendy cursed as she attempted one last kick, trying to free herself from the grip.

_It's not like I hadn't been trying to kill myself in the first place, and now that Peter's safe… and now that he'll never remember you. _The thought jarred her back into fighting, flailing her arms and kicking both legs, wriggling herself forward, and trying to kick the beast in the face.

The mermaid swam up to look at Wendy's face, and forced their lips together. Shocked, for a moment Wendy stopped moving, and she slowly began to realise that the Mermaid was allowing her to breathe.

The Mermaid took her mouth away and began to pull Wendy even further down, but stopped abruptly as they reached a large rock. Wendy could only faintly make out the brilliant sun above the almost black sea water.

Wendy prepared herself for the sharp clicking and hisses of their language, but was pleasantly surprised that under water the Mermaid's voice took on an ethereal quality, as if she was singing a song with no words. She never said anything directly to Wendy, but instead she allowed for Wendy to see what the Mermaid had seen.

It was Peter, crying, but he was a child still, the same boy Wendy had been convinced didn't exist. Tink sat with him in the Hallow, trying to console him, but doing horribly. He was in the hallow, the boys gone on an adventure, and he sat with in the chair he once played Father in. He lifted his head up and stared across the room where Wendy's chair was, and smiled weakly _I shall go get her. _ He whispered turning to Tink, smile growing. _I'll go after her. _ He jumped up from the bed and reached for his sword, all the while Tink trying to pull him back by the sleeve.

The Mermaid pulled back and kissed her softly, taking away her breath and giving new air to Wendy's starved lungs.

Suddenly Wendy saw two images at the same time. She saw herself, as if she had been looking on, as she placed the barrel of the gun into her delicate mouth. The other image was the Man Peter smoking weird cigarette and veering off the road. She watched in horror as they both died. The gun shot and the crash happened simultaneous. And Wendy heard the absolute silence, and then chaos as the guests and her family pounded up the stairs to see what was wrong with her, and she saw Peter die, as blood poured from a gash where he's been slammed through his windshield, all alone.

Even underwater Wendy couldn't help the cry she unleashed, for Peter, just like everything she had ever done was for Peter. Now they were both dead.

She swallowed water, her hands immediately going to cover her mouth as she realised her mistake. The Mermaid scowled, and with a toss of her dark hair, dragged Wendy though the water. Before she let Wendy resurface the Mermaid yanked the girls hair back and forced her cold eyes to meet Wendy's. In Wendy's clouded mind, she still heard the Mermaid clearly _Peter is the only one who can stop this._

Wendy didn't, however, know what Peter was supposed to stop, so her eyes strayed for the Mermaid's intense glare, and instead tried to focus on the Mermaid's grey forehead. Which is where she forced her hypothesis.

The Mermaid was old. So old that wrinkles had creased her forehead, outlined her eyes, and encased her thin lips. _But… no one in Neverland ages…_

_Exactly_ The Mermaid responded, and then shoved Wendy above the surface.

She surfaced just in time to see the dingy make the coastline.

"Slightly!" She screamed, trying her hardest to swim towards him.

"Wendy?" Slightly murmured, not sure if that's what he had heard, and then looked back out to the water, where Wendy was barely staying afloat.

She had tried her hardest, but going so far underwater and then coming up so quickly had given her an awful headache, and nausea _It's impossible to be saved from a Mermaid without Peter._ She reasoned, as one of the boys paddled out in the rescue boat. _That's why they left, if they thought they could have saved me they would have. _ Wendy, did not believe this, and it was clear as the boy came closer, that he was only coming back out of respect for Peter.

_What will they do when they find out Peter doesn't love me anymore?_


	4. Chapter 4

That night left Wendy back in the bed where she had slept all those years ago, shivering in her ripped and wet night gown. She knew that tomorrow she would have to find herself something new to wear but she had been so tired when she lay down… now she couldn't sleep.

She had managed to sleep but a few hours and had woken up to the Hallow being lit only by one soft glowing candle by Tootles' bed. It left much to be desired, but the light wasn't what she was worried about. The Hallow looked just as it had when she was 12, and Hook found it. Why hadn't they left, found a new tree?

Peter whimpered in his sleep, pulling her out of her worries, and she crept over to his bed. She grabbed a rag out of the bucket of ice they had put beside him to fight his fever.

"Hello, Peter, I missed you. Would you like me to tell you a story? I've told you so many stories." Wendy patted the freezing washcloth over Peter's sweat glazed forehead, pleased to feel that his temperature had lessened some.

His dry lips parted, so she reached for the cup of water and tipped his head up so he could drink.

"Yes." He rasped, just before she placed the crude wooden cup to his lips.

"You would like a story?"

He nodded slightly and then began to violently suck down the water. Wendy pulled away quickly "You must be slow Peter." She admonished, slid into the bed next to him, and beamed as he listened to her. He hadn't been responsive when she had finally gone to sleep and was thrilled to see him like this. _Maybe he'll even remember me. _She thought wistfully, but knew that it wasn't likely, it had something to do with his new found age… and she didn't mind his age so much when he was lying beside her, naked save for a course brown blanket. No, she didn't mind much at all.

"What story should I tell? Should I tell the story of Peter Pan and Captain Hook? Would you like me to tell you about the time that you cut Hook's hand off?"

"What's your name?" He asked, before his head hit the pillow another time.

"Wendy Moira Angela Darling, what's your name, Boy?" Wendy tried to finish the question, but her voice cracked as her body prepared itself to cry. How could he have forgotten about her? After all this time of idolizing him, and saving herself for him to come back he had forgotten about her.

"Peter Payan." His French accent painfully clear as he pronounced his last name.

"Where in France are you from, Peter?"  
>"Are- aren't you going to tell me a story?"<p>

"Of course, what kind of story?"

"Tell me a love story." He sighed, snaking his arm around her waist. "Please, Wendy."

"I'll tell you the story of how we fell in love."

"I don't even know you. You're trying to tell me that I forgot being in love?"

"Aye, just listen."

Peter tightened his grip around her waist, enjoying the soft feel of her exposed skin against his bare arms, and listened to her smooth voice as she practically hummed out her story.

"There once was a boy who never grew up," She started, running the washcloth over his forehead yet again "His name was Peter Pan, and he was King of a large island called Never Land. He lived in a hallowed out tree with his lost boys, and he was very lonely. So every night he flew to London and listened to a young girl tell stories. Her stories were of Pirates, Princesses, wars, and every so often, death. They were always about Love. Peter grew to love her stories and… he grew…" Peter propped himself up on his pillow, pulling Wendy to his shining chest "To love her too."

"What are you two doing?" Slightly hissed, pulling Wendy out of Peter's tight grasp, and threw her on the floor. "I thought that we were supposed to be helping him get better and here you are…"

"I fell asleep telling him a story, Slightly, besides… it's not like… Fuck off." Wendy pulled herself up as tall as she could, and was pleased that even though Slightly had aged just like Never Land he hadn't quite grown taller than her yet.

"Whatever, you should make yourself new clothes, you're distracting some of the boys. " Slightly mumbled, looking away from her.

Wendy picked herself up from off the floor and shimmied back over to Peter, placing a defiant kiss on his dried lips. His eyes flickered open quickly and he tangled his fingers in her hair before she could even register what was going on.

"Peters awake!" The twins shouted at the same time and ran over.

"Mother and Father are kissing again." Tootles whispered to no one in particular, stepping away, with a smile on his dirty face.

Wendy pressed her lips against his hard and he moved against her like she had never imagined, with a passion she had only ever seen in him when he was fighting pirates… this was nothing like pirates. One of his hands left her fiery red hair and found one of her breasts.

Slightly cleared his throat.

Wendy shifted herself closer to him and pressed down on his thigh finding there a hardness that hadn't been present last night.

"Excuse me." Slightly squeaked, and all the lost boys swayed on their feet uncomfortably.

Ignoring them Peter let his free hand trail down Wendy's figure, and he suddenly knew she hadn't been lying to him, because this kiss was his. He could taste the hidden kiss on her sweet lips and he knew that she had given it to him, a long time ago. Assured she would stay in his arms he let his final hand out of Wendy's tangled hair and both of his large calloused hands grabbed her hips and pulled her closer to him. He moved to thrust his hips to meet hers as closely as possible and two things happened.

Slightly screamed, one tear had found its way down his ruddy cheek "Excuse me!"

His legs screamed so hard in protest to being moved that his vision blurred for a second. "Wendy." He let out in one breath of air. As quickly as she had been there, she was gone, and pulling down the covers to examine his legs. She grabbed the mandrake past she had received from the Indians and gingerly rubbed it on the large gashes on Peter's legs, where chunks of bone had cut through.

"This is, all, your fault." Slightly growled, fat tears rolled down his now pale face.

"I'm not the one who made his hump me, that was all him." Wendy answered mechanically, trying to recall exactly how much she was supposed to put on.

Slightly shrieked as sobs racked his body, Curl came up behind him and wrapped his arm around Slightly, leading him towards the door.

The Lost Boys remained completely silent as Curly and Slightly walked away.

Wendy applied the paste to every cut and with tears in her own clear blue eyes, kissed Peter's forehead until the pain passed and he opened his eyes.

"Wendy, oh Wendy." Peter moaned, holding back his tears.

Wendy held back her own, and moved her lips to his just for a second "You still don't remember?"

"I—I feel like I night be starting to." Peter's eyes ran down her body "When do we get to to do that again?"

"I've never… done that before. My last kiss was you, before you can remember."

"Oh." Peter winced.

"We'll have to wait though, uh, until your legs heal up a bit."

Peter nodded and Wendy looked away, eyes narrowing on Tootles.

"Tootles, Darling, can you tell me why Slightly was so upset?" Wendy asked, voice sugar sweet.

"He—uh well…" Tootles stammered around his answer.

"He's more jealous of you than Tink!" Exclaimed one of the twins, Marmaduke, but Wendy couldn't be positive.

Wendy looked over sharply "Slightly?"

"He thinks Pan is mighty pretty." Tootles added.

"Oh, dear."


	5. Chapter 5

Peter was rather confused. He didn't know where he was, but he was 98% certain the he wasn't in France anymore, but he had never been anywhere else to compare the foliage.

_Some time, too_. He thought, bitterly, trying to move his legs from their place lying hopelessly beneath him. Although, he had been quite enamored with the Wendy girl, and she acted like she had known him.

His toes started wiggling, finally, but the pain was almost unbearable. He let out an audible moan.

Then, there she was, with her honey eyes and full lips. Her red hair tangled and looking almost wind whipped.

"Peter, what's wrong?" She managed to ask, in French, so that the group of boys wouldn't understand.

"Are both of my legs broken?" He asked, trying to prop himself up, but her cool hands pressed him back to the bed.

"Are both of my legs broken?" She mumbled to herself, and Peter realized her French must be quite rudimentary, but before he could ask in English her eyes dulled.

"Yes, along with your…" she motioned to her ribs, blushing.

He sucked in a deep breath, looking away from her, managing the way her flushed face made his heart race. That and he didn't want her to see the way the pain in his legs had made tears spring to his eyes.

"Would you like me to give the boys go?" She asked, and Peter couldn't help but smile at her French mistakes.

"If you wish it." He responded in English, for her benefit.

She took in a sharp breath, and the shine in her eyes betrayed tears, just like those he had just tried to hide.

He had caused her pain?

_Sure, _he thought. She wouldn't be the first girl who he hurt, not even close. Turns out it was a specialty of his. He couldn't even at most girls, always feeling like he was betraying… His eyes flitted back over to hers and he remembered what she had said, that they had been in love.

He shook his head, he was being horrid, and he knew it. The Wendy girl was simply mistaken in her feelings for him. Yet… she was so… Peter couldn't help the smirk that set upon his lips, she was delectable. Soft in all the places where she should be, with skin the color of peaches and he couldn't help but watch as her chest as it rose up and down while she was breathing, the soft subtle curve ample compared to her slender waist.

She stood from where she had been sitting at his bed side, allowing Peter to watch her hips sway in her tattered nightgown, as she walked towards the boys "Little ones, let father and mother have a moment would you. Go to the waterfall and have yourselves a bath."

I watched in amusement as a smirk found its way to her lips "Slightly, Darling, would you do me a huge favor and grab extra furs from the Indian village, I have it in my mind to make a new dress." She rushed them all out of the house, smiling and laughing at their protests, explaining that it was important for them to bath.

When they were all gone, the last traces of Wendy's smile vanished, and she let her head dip down so her chin touched her chest delicately. Peter ached to touch her, to caress her cheek, to comfort her from this un-known pain. Pain that he had caused.

"Peter…" Wendy turned on her heel, facing him from across the room.

"How did we meet, really Wendy?"

"Exactly as I told you; I wouldn't lie. You flew into my window one night, and swept me off my feet." A sad smile spread across her pale face.

He looked away from her, mimicking her sad expression "How do you expect me to believe that?"

"Where do you think you are? England, France?" She slammed her foot against the dirt floor as anger makes her cheeks flush.

"Well, yes…?"

"We're in Never Land! Second Star to the Right, Straight on Till Morning; You've never actually heard of Never Land?" She slinked over to him, sitting at the edge of the bed.

"No… but it sounds familiar?"

"Because you're King!" Wendy exasperated, throwing her hands into the air.

"The only thing I'm King of is rolling joints." He huffs, trying to sit up.

"Would you like me to… prop you up?" Suddenly, Peter was very aware of how close she was. "That's a horrid thing to be the King of, Peter." She chastised, pushing an extra pillow behind him, while holding him close to keep him up.

_She smells just like she used to, _Peter thought idly, rubbing his nose along her jaw line.

She sucked in a sharp breath, but didn't move, keeping herself pressed lightly against him. Peter frowned, how would he know how she used to smell? He had the same feeling in the pit of his stomach that he had when they had kissed, like this was familiar and yet so new.

"Peter…" Without thinking he ran his left hand down her back, relishing in the warm skin when he found ripped patches of her dress.

She closed her eyes, and Peter didn't know whether that was good or bad, so he stopped hesitantly before tracing her spine back up to her neck.

"Peter." She pulled herself away; the unknown tears had found her eyes again.

"What's wrong?" He asked, trying to pull her back.

"Nothing… It's just that… well I…"

"Don't you like kissing me?"

"I like kissing you, Peter, but how can I… do this while you don't even remember who you are?"

"I'm beginning to; sometimes I'll think that something is familiar when I've never done it before. Like kissing you, or… I remembered your smell."

Wendy bit her lip and completely extracted herself from him "How are your legs?"

"They only hurt when I move them."

"At least you can move them." She smiled, turning away from him and grabbing more of the dank smelling paste.

"Mandrake." She explained "The Indians use it as an anesthetic. We were lucky that they let us borrow some."

"The Indians?"

"Yeah." Wendy smoothed some of the past onto his thigh, avoiding his flaccid member.

"You could put some underwear on me, if you're uncomfortable."

"I have two brothers. Penis doesn't make me squeamish." She giggled at her slight slant rhyme.

"What does?" Peter asked, gauging how open she was willing to be with him.

"Seeing you hurt." She clipped, pulling the covers back up gently and placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

Peter shifted uncomfortably. The Wendy girl obviously had him mistaken for someone else, but… was it hard to imagine loving her? He could see why someone would be physically attracted to her, and she was… smart. Well, clever, he had no real gauge for her intellect but she seemed smart just in the way she held herself.

"Peter, who do you think you are? What were you like back in France?" She kept her face near his as she tucked herself into the crock of his arm.

Peter smirked; of course she would be in love with him, who could resist?

"I was in charge, I had a group of friends I was in charge of and we did everything together. Including get in trouble." Peter leaned his head down to touch his forehead to Wendy's, their skin warm and soft against the other.

"Did you get in a lot of trouble; did you go on a lot of adventures?"

"Loads, of both, we were always doing one stupid thing or another."

"Did you get in a lot of fights?" Her eyes lit up, and peter got the distinct feeling he was answering all her questions correctly.

"Too many to count, and I always won."

"Of course! You're Peter Pan! Have you ever lost anything?" She smiled triumphantly, gingerly placing her hand on his cheek.

Peter suddenly felt a sharp pain in his chest, not the kind that could be explained by his injuries, and soon he whispered, without thinking "I lost you."


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N**__** Hey, thanks for all the encouragement, it means a lot :3 I'll be updating verryyy soon (it's one thirty now, so probably like nine tomorrow night) because next chapter has no plot at all. **_

_**Also, haven't been doing this like I should, but I don't own Peter Pan, although the copyright is technically up… but… whatever. **_

_**Comment/Subscribe?**_

It was not until Wendy was an hour late for her own engagement party that John and Michael began to wonder about her whereabouts. They hadn't exactly expected her to be thrilled; they'd seen the man she was to marry. _Edward is frightfully nice, and a proper English Gentleman. _John chided himself and quietly stepped away from party, casting a look at Michael. He made his way towards the stairs that lead to the nursery, allowing Michael to silently fall into step behind him.

They had grown quite close since they were children, no longer fighting for anything but jest; and hardly that. When Wendy was sent to the hospital the first time Michael had all but stopped talking, and he never started up again. John was meant to lead his little brother through life, just as he led him down the corridor towards the nursery.

Michael Nicolas Darling was a teenage boy of few words. At fourteen he already towered over his seventeen year old brother and his father; and was far darker than everyone in his family, in more than just complexion. _If it's Pan, I'll gut him._ Michael promised himself as he turned the corner.

The metallic scent of blood was the first thing that greeted the boys as John reached for the door knob and twisted.

Michael pushed John out of his way and cracked open the door just the slightest bit.

"I'm the older brother." John whimpered, more from his nerves than from any real feelings of inadequacy.

"Wendy!" Michael gasped, as his eyes locked with what was left of Wendy's head.

Wendy backed away from the man, shaking her head slightly. Her eyes were wide with fear and her heart raced, hammering against her cheat in a painful manner.

"You wouldn't." She hissed as she was backed into a tree.

"I would, dear, trust me." He smiled coyly, holding a hand out to her, and laughed as Wendy screamed.

"Oh, oh, god. Peter!" She threw her arms up, but too late to stop the mud from landing in her hair and dripping onto her face.

She was covered in mud, absolutely soaked through to every bone in her body; she hadn't felt this good in years. Her skipped as she jumped up, and with a face full of mud, kissed her not-Peter on the mouth.

Then she was running, smile reaching ear to ear as she ran off laughing. She had just wanted to feel free, to let her hair down and run aroundn like she was a little girl again. She wanted the mud caked hair, the calloused bare feet, and sun kissed bronze skin that she had always associated with Peter. She had started to look so much like him too. They could be siblings if it wasn't for her bright red hair and sparkling blue eyes, Peter had always had a much more mischievous look about him. That plus the fact that he was always getting into trouble.

"Wendy, oh, Wendy." He called after her, and she knew he had to be flying because his leg wasn't fully healed yet, he still needed a cane or crutches to walk around on.

She heard the crashing of the waterfall before she saw it, and knew immediately what was going to happen. She had always imagined skinny dipping with someone…

She began to peel the leaf garments, she saved the fur ones for sleeping, off as she became closer and closer to the water.

When she hit the beach and was sure it was empty she turned around, waiting for him to catch up.

"Are you going to come swim, Peter? The water feels just perfect." She let her tongue roll of the last word as he came into view, just as she dipped her toe into the surface layer of the crystal blue stream.

"Unexpected." She heard him mumble, but she plunged into the water before he could object,

The water was just perfect, cool enough to refresh, but warm enough to luxuriate in. Wendy was luxuriating. She kept her breath held tight as she swirled her hair around and wiggled her finger through to loosen mud and tangles. Popping up for one second to see Peter still deliberating, she let her float up on her back, exposing her chest, and she began to let her hands roam, rubbing patches of caked on dirt away and slowly she passed a hand over her pebbled nipples gently. She heard Peter's intake of breath, ragged, and then he made a large splash jumping into the water near her.

"Wendy." He breathed in her ear when he resurfaced, letting his lip gently rub against her earlobe "You were so young last time you were here… now you're…" She could hear the blush in his voice.

"I'm old. I grew up, and I regret it every day." She admitted, turning to face him.

"You're not old." Suddenly his eyes betrayed that he wasn't remembering anymore, he wasn't thinking as her Peter.

Her heart soared. He had been, just then. Maybe it was her Peter who chose to jump in after her.

"Older than you." She cooed, lifting an arm out and making little waves in the water in front of him.

"Maybe you're the same age as me, but no older."

"I just turned 18." She sighed, but leaned in again, wanting to end any conversation with the new Peter. She wasn't sure how she felt about him, but he looked just the same as her Peter. It would be easy to get lost with him. She sighed to herself, admiring the shine of the sun on his golden highlights, watching the rise and fall of his chest as she slowly trailed her hands from the water to place them, palms down on his pecs. It would be easy to let her hormones take control, and wasn't that what Never land was about, giving into instinct, going on wild adventures.

"Wendy… You said…"

"Shut up, for once." She smirked and then their lips smacked together. Without the idea of the children watching, and with no clothes keeping them apart Wendy let her hands wander.


	7. Chapter 7 NC17

_**A/N SORRY! I know it's late but I just started watching all the episodes of Supernatural and let me tell you something, that shit is distracting. Hope you like!**_

_"Shut up, for once." She smirked and then their lips smacked together. Without the idea of the children watching, and with no clothes keeping them apart Wendy let her hands wander._

She ran her hands down his chest to his abs, outlining them delicately with her fingertips. She spread her fingers apart to fully span his stomach, rubbing across the hair that led under the water.

Peter deepened the kiss, brushing his tongue across her bottom lip asking for entrance, moaning lightly as she opened her mouth for him. He rapidly pushed his tongue into her, massaging her tongue with his own and savoring the taste of her. He had never imagined being this close to a girl, feeling her warm skin pressed against him caused his stomach muscles to contract and his length to harden.

"Oh, Peter." Wendy mused, reaching her hand down to brush the tip of his cock "What's this?"

Peter pulls her back to his lips, causing her hips to push back against him. His body involuntarily rocked back against her, rubbing his hips to hers. Wendy reveled in the feel of his hardness against her flat stomach, moving herself back and forth.

"Wendy…" Peter gasped as she took hold of him, and began leading him towards the shore; the water level sank as they came closer to the shore. The cool water hardening his cock even more as it blew across the shaft. "Oh, God," he moaned as she brought them into the sand and delicately caressed the length of him.

"Is that what you like?" She cooed, and abruptly blushed at the gravel in her tone.

Peter, unable to answer, nodded wildly and bucked his pelvis forward, further into her grasp. Wendy bit her lip, and flushed deep red, proud of her work. She dropped to her knees in front of him; hand still wrapped around him and led his tip into her mouth.

"Wendy?" He gasped, ripping himself away from her.

"What? Did I—Did I do something wrong?" She whimpered, pulling herself up and crossing her arms over her breasts.

"I don't…" The glint in his eyes betrayed her to his younger self. He took a shaky breath and looked around. "What were you doing?" He whispered.

"Kissing you." She frowned, trying not to look him in the eye.

"That was not a kiss, nor where you're supposed to kiss." He muttered, in a strained voice.

"You didn't like it?" She begged, innocently, her bottom lip jutted out.

"Can we just… regular kiss for a bit?" He asked, moving his lips closer to hers, looking into her eyes for permission. Embarrassed, Wendy moved her lips to his and pecked him on the lips chastely. Then, she pulled away.

"Is that all?" She clipped, turning her head away from him.

"Well, I…" He bit his lip and impulsively wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her back to him. "I was just talking about, kisses on the l-lips not… not kissing." He begrudgingly admitted, before pressing his lips to her neck softly.

"Stop it…" She moaned, but showed no signs of really wanting him to stop. He pulled away none the less, and as soon as he did, she whipped her head back furiously "I didn't mean to…" She stopped her sentence, then leaned herself into him, launching her arms around Peter's neck and pulling him back to her. Their lips locked, rather sloppily, and they both sighed as their tongues wrapped themselves together, massaging and exploring.

"Can we…" Peter started, breaking the kiss, "Lay down, so that we can… it's just that, it's hard to stand here…" He trailed of for the last time as Wendy threw herself towards the ground, taking him with her.

"Of course…" she purred, opening her legs for him to settle between.

"What do I…?" He began.

Wendy shook her head, and rolled back up so she could push him down "I'll just do it."

"Just kissing?" He mused, as she straddled his wait, not allowing for penetration.

"Uh huh." Wendy smiled, leaning down to let their lips meet.

Peter smiled back into their kiss, enjoying the softness of her lips and the roughness of the sand. He grabbed onto his hips and allowed his hands to stroke the sides of her body, and sweep across the plane of her back, feeling her jutting shoulder blades, softened by her skin. Then he swept his hands down to explore the smooth curve of her backend. Wendy felt him harden beneath her, his sheath pressing against her stomach, her stomach muscles tightened as Peter reacted by dragging his hands down her thighs. He reached back up and gripped her breasts, hard, and tried to pull her down closer to him.

"This isn't just kissing." She mumbled, smiling to him and moving away the slightest.

"I don't want just kissing anymore." Wendy smirked, but when she looked into his eyes, they were dull. Non-Peter was in control again.

Wendy lost her smile, but nodded anyway "You know what to do?" She asked, but by the mirth in his eyes she knew he did. Nothing like her Peter at all.

"Obviously," He raised an eyebrow as he flipped her over onto her back. "You wouldn't happen to have any…"

"Obviously not." She bit out, looking away from him.

"You don't want to?"

"Of course I do…" _Just not with you_, she sighed, but locked her lips back onto his, hoping he would turn back, _or whatever happens when he becomes My Peter again._

"Open up." He joked, nudging his leg between hers.

"Yeah, or course, yeah." She spread herself open for him, gulping.

Peter watched her without moving, the break in passion allowing for him to notice the hesitance etched in her frown "Maybe another time…" Peter, still positioned in between her legs, whispered as he tried to make eye contact with her.

"No, there is no other time. I want this. I want… you." Wendy hoped she had imitated her voice from earlier, the one even she had found sexy, but the pained expression on Peter's face was all she needed to know that she had failed.

"I'm seriously fine just… kissing you; we don't need to go any further."

"I -" Wendy started, but Peter pressed his lips against hers softly.

"Do you want to put our leaves back on, ma petite?" he chuckled, causing Wendy's checks down to her neck to flush.

"It's just that… _that_ is a bit unsightly. I can… help with that?"

"Wendy, m'amour, it's fine."

"I've never helped someone like that."

"I can tell." He kissed her again, a little deeper.

Wendy could feel herself squirm underneath him and found his waist with her roaming hands "You could teach me, you've taught me so much already…"

Wendy watched a spark return to his eyes, just slightly at first.

"This isn't sword fighting." He coughed lightly as her hands wrapped around the base of his penis and slowly dragged upwards. His eyes flickered closed as she repeated the motion. "Okay, keep… doing that but…"

Wendy started adding pressure randomly, watching the way he would close his eyes, or how he would take in a deep breath.

"Yeah," He sighed "Maybe, just a bit faster?" He almost begged, his arms quivering where he held himself above her.

Wendy nodded, and began to jerk her arm up and down rhythmically, but faster and faster until his breath hitched.

"Use the other hand to…" But she had already figured out what he wanted and she began to massage his tight scrotum.

Peter took in shallow ragged breaths and started to rock his hips opposite her hand, so that they crashed together. He dropped his head into the crook of her neck, laying kisses along her collar bone. His entire body tightened as all his muscles began to contract and he felt cold for just a second before he came to shuddering orgasm all over Wendy's hand and stomach.

"Sorry, désolée ma chère. Wendy, I'm so sorry."

"No, it's what I was expecting."

What she hadn't expected was the slickness between her own legs, or the strangled sob that emenated from the forest behind them.


	8. Chapter 8

Slightly's hands flew to his chest, a strangled sob escaping from his lips before he fell to the ground. He watched them, writhing against each other in the sand, hands roaming like the blind. A physical ache pounded against his chest as he sat there in the dirt, mud soaking through the knee pads in his riding pants.

"No." He moaned, just as Peter began to quiver all over. "No." This wasn't supposed to happen, none of this. Wendy wasn't supposed to come back too, that's not the deal he made…

Peter and Wendy fell against each other, looking over in his direction. Wendy scrambled to find her leaves, looking around as Peter ran to see what was going on.

Slightly jumped up from where he was crouched and started running, he couldn't fly like Pan, but he was the quickest of the lost boys when running. And, Pan wasn't exactly flying those days. His feet broke branches and twigs as he fled, eyes watering while he ran from his only friend. His only friend. The thought made his heart swell so big in his chest, everything was hot and tight. He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood, but he kept running. He couldn't hear anything, didn't know if anyone was following him. Slightly tripped. He tripped and stumbled and fell. He hurt. He was hurting so bad, that he couldn't really understand the way his body was reacting to the pain that wasn't Peter related. His feet kept pulling him forward, until he was waist deep in water.

That's when he heard the clicking.

/

"Wendy was such a beautiful girl… we're so sorry for your lose."

"She was also smart and creative." Michael bit out, anger slipping over the collar of his ill-fitting suit, and made his face flush a violent red.

"What?" The blonde girl, her hand on John's arm, turned to look at him.

"She wasn't just beautiful, everyone says that. She was a woman, who was so…" his voice cracked "So much more."

She blushes, kneading her foot into the ground "I'm real sorry…"

Michael gnashed his teeth together, and turned on his heel. He couldn't take it. He couldn't be in the room with all these people.

_These stupid fucking people, they don't even know her, they have no idea what the wolrd is missing…_ He ran into his mother as he fled from the room.

"Michael, please, what are you doing?"

He looked away from her, not wanting her to see the tears that welled in his deep blue eyes.

"You have to be here." His mom yanked him by the sleeve out of the main foyer. "You think we want to be here?" She questioned rashly, almost shoving him against the wall so no one could see them. "'You think it's easy for me, for your father, to bury our only daughter?" Her chest heaved, and she stared right at Michael as tears slipped down the hallows of her gaunt cheeks.

"Mom…"

"Michael Nicolas Darling, march your punk ass back into that funeral parlor or so help me God…" His dad interrupted, grabbing the boy by the collar.

"George, please… calm down. We don't to attract any undue attention." Aunt Millicent begged, tugging him away by the coat sleeve. Mary Darling was displeased. It was her daughter's funeral, couldn't everyone just behave?

So she walked away, smoothing her dress, and murmuring to people her thanks as she passed them. George and Millicent followed after, expecting Michael to come to, but he didn't. Michael stormed away, pushing through the front doors of the funeral home with hot tears burning in his eyes, and a growl emanating from deep inside him.

He wanted to believe the way everyone kept telling him it would be okay was true, but in his heart he knew that Wendy wasn't dead. He'd seen her brain and skull splattered against the ceiling and the wall. He'd seen the dead stare in her eyes, as she watched nothing.

She wasn't dead. She had to be with Peter. Michael ran back to the house, it wasn't far. He knew exactly what he had to do; he had to find Never Land.

Michael sprinted the two miles home, holding his hand against his pounding chest. You need happy thoughts and fairy dust to fly. He had neither at the moment, but that didn't stop him. He was breathing heavily by the time he got to the front door; he just needed to get to the nursery window. Needed to open the window and…Three flights of stairs, two flights of stairs, one flight. He kicked the door without opening it and shoved his way into the supposed crime scene. There was still blood everywhere in the corner where Wendy's bed was, and the scent seared at Michael's nose.

"I'm coming Wendy, and when I find Pan, I'm gonna fucking kill him. I'm gonna get you back." He took a deep breath and reached it to Wendy's top dresser drawer; looking for a vile he knew she had kept full of pixie dust. He didn't want to look through his sister's things, especially in her underwear drawer, so he felt around with his eyes closed.

His hands grasped something cold and cylindrical, about the size of his first toe, and attached to a necklace. It was the vile. It had a faint golden luminescence and hovered just above his palm when he opened his hand up to look at it. Now he just needed happy thoughts.

_That might be harder to come by._ He thought bitterly as he splashed himself with pinch of the golden powder.

_Killing Pan, saving Wendy, Riley Hendrickson. _He was hovering just the slightest, and shoved the container back into the drawer, before turning around, slamming his eyes closed and thinking. He needed to think pre-Never Land thoughts.

_Nana._ He thought with dreamy smile, _poor Nana. Sweet Nana._ His heart swelled as he thought of his lost companion.

She had always been so… loyal. He remembered her taking him into the bath, and her sloppily good night kisses and he soared. He lifted into the air and flew around, imaging his dog, and his last friend.

He took a fierce lunge out the window and with a rooster call worthy of the very boy he was was planning to slaughter. Went for the second star to the right, and prepared to go straight on till morning.


	9. Chapter 9

Detective Inspector Coorina Ayers had been on the job far too long. At least, that's what she told herself as she pulled up to the Darling House almost exactly six years after the first time she had met them. She remembered the details in painful clarity; she had lived and breathed that case for over four months. When she had received the call to head over to the unusually chaotic corner house in Bloomsbury, her stomach had coiled with dread. The first call had been the unfortunate news of Wendy Darling's suicide, D.I Ayers was disheartened by the discovery, but, by no means, had she been shocked. Wendy Darling had been the most disturbed upon arriving home after _The Ordeal, _as her parents had taken to calling it.

The memories her suicide dredged up were an unpleasant reminder of the atrocities that Wendy had lived through, suffered through really. She had seen the videos, watched in disgust at the things Wendy and Michael had been forced to do by their captors. Four months. They had been missing for four months and the entire time Wendy had concocted a tale, a beautiful romantic tale, about Pirates, Faeries, and Flying Boys. The truth, however, was a dark twisted story, involving the people Wendy's caricatures had so comically depicted.

James "Hook" Cook; a tall brooding ring leader, who had lost his hand in Afghanistan during his "Alternative Sentencing."

Stanly Mae; an older man whom was homeless and a vagabond before Cook offered him a "Personal Assistant" job.

Wilhelm Starkey; a middle aged undercover police officer from Moscow, he often used a supposed language barrier to get offenders to speak loudly and clearly into a hidden tape recorder.

Peter Payan; A French boy, about thirteen that Wendy had appeared in numerous _films _with. It had seemed that "Hook" had taken a particular liking to the boy. He was never found.

The most painful part was that all the police officers knew, had seen the videos, had heard the accounts from other children, but Wendy refused to hear any other story than her own. She had been sent to more than one psychiatric hospital, six actually, to see if anyone could make her actually remember. It was decided she was better off not knowing,

Then, six years later, they had found her journal. A plain red moleskin journal, with Wendy's enchanting hand-writing scrawling out demented, horrifying, ugly truths about the four months she had been missing. The girl, or women, had known, probably, all along. She detailed every video, every man who came and went, and she described in vivid detail, the night Peter Payan escaped.

Now, after all that, after just losing Wendy, D.I Ayers was being called back to Bloomsbury for another suicide. Michael Darling.

/

Peter made his way back to Wendy, the little float he could manage looking disappointed.

"Couldn't find the sound." He informed her, sitting next to her in the sand.

"It was probably some sort of animal, if you couldn't find it." She assured him, not wanting him to feel as if he was bad at tracking.

"Would you like me to go out again and look for the sobbing animal, it sound like it was in great pain." Peter wondered aloud, casting a glance at Wendy to see if she was impressed by his humanitarian efforts.

She wasn't, or at least, Peter couldn't tell whether she was or not. She wasn't looking at him, and he watched an unexplainable pain flash across her face. "He must have been in horrible pain." She choked out, as in her mind's eye she could see exactly who had come upon them.

"What's wrong Wendy Girl?" He asked, coming close to her face and experimentally brushing her cheek with his lips, bringing color to the porcelain mounds.

"We should go back to the tree house."

"Maybe catch a bit of sleep. W-would you mind…" Peter trailed off, and Wendy could finally see that this was her Peter, with his flashing green eyes and quick smile. "We could share my big bed; it's much more… comfortable." His courage faltered at the end of his offer.

"Oh, Peter." Wendy sighed, looking away from the boy. "I don't… with the boys, I don't think they would take to it." She traced a pattern in the sand.

"I'll tell them to, I'm their leader, fearless leader." Peter smiled brightly, floating over to look at her in the eyes. When they were finally looking at each other Peter began to wiggle his eyebrows obnoxiously.

"Oh, stop it, Peter." She couldn't help the laugh that escaped her rose lips.

"I assure you it's more comfortable than sand." He whispered, and he had lost every ounce of her Peter, but his words still sent a shiver up her spine.

Wendy shifted towards his lips slightly, and in the final seconds grasped his mouth with hers. She waited for him to respond, and couldn't help the fuzzy warmth that spread in the pit of her stomach as he pushed his mouth back against hers.

"C'mon, let's have an adventure!" Peter crowed into the air, his trademark grin taking up residence on his lips.

"Okay… let's just stay away from the Pirates…"

"Where's the fun in that?" Peter chuckled, shooting himself a few feet higher I the air, his hands connected to Wendy's so she would come with him.

"What fun is there in going, they almost killed you?" She exclaimed, remembering many other times she had tried to talk him out of stupid things.

"Almost." He repeated, winking and pulling them further into the air.

"I don't want you to get hurt Peter, I- I love you…"


	10. Chapter 10

Peter Pan was not a sap, or an effe, or any manner of words that allowed for boys to feel such emotions as _love_, even the word disgusted him.

Or, at least he imagined he should feel that way, but he wasn't much feeling like himself these days. He had offered Wendy a place in …his bed. The idea that something like that would leave his mouth was abhorred in itself, regardless of the flush that tinged his cheeks when he imagined what they had done on the beach. Every so often his vision would haze over and he would find himself acting, and feeling, as if he were something else. A man. He could imagine that this was what manhood felt like, or at least the best, if not strangest, way he could have thought it would be. He still felt like a boy when it happened, only… he had the pulling sensation to get closer to Wendy. He didn't believe he could ever be close enough to cure the swell in stomach whenever he saw a flash of her bottom in the little dress made of leaves, or the shorter fur dress she had on right now.

She was ignoring his anger, which seemed like an odd reaction; didn't she know who he was? Had she expected him to _love _her back?

"Peter Pan does not love." He had said to her when she brought the word up. He wasn't quite sure anymore though. If he were to be honest with himself, he wasn't actually sure what it was to love, he didn't know how it felt. It scared him. Love was a huge grown up thing, something only men and women did, not Peter. Peter was a boy. Or he should have been, but he did look like a man. Not a man like the Pirates, not dirty and hairy and certainly not evil like they were. So what did it mean for Peter to feel like a boy and look like a man?

"Peter?" A small voice asked from somewhere standing at the end of the bed.

Peter raised an eyebrow, allowing the boy to speak.

"Peter, Slightly hasn't come home. He never misses dinner." Tootles stammered, wary of the sharp look in his leader's eyes.

"Sometimes people do things they wouldn't normally do." Peter sighed, speaking more of his own behavior; he pointedly looked at Wendy as he reprimanded the boy.

Wendy smiled brightly at her old friend and continued to serve the lost boys what appeared to be some sort of black pudding. She didn't mind the harsh way Peter looked at her, she'd dealt with it before, she knew she shouldn't have said that word to Peter. As much as she loved him like a woman, she loved as he was, and if that meant she didn't get to go around spouting her feelings then so be it.

Of course, Wendy was very good at lying to her own self, and was very much dismayed by his reaction, but she was a good British girl and kept her upper-lip remarkably stiff. Mostly because despite the fact that she was only eighteen, and would remain so forever, she loved him very much and she did not wish to push him farther away. She had, in fact, just gotten him back.

"Oh, Peter? Would you like some blood pudding?" She wondered, catching his eye, and she knew that he was trying to glare. "I know that you're French, but everyone could benefit from a full English breakfast."

"Not hungry." He muttered, and turned his head away from her.

"Oh, that's a shame, I'll set some aside for you, but I don't know how long things are going to last, I'll have to invest in some sort of ice box." Wendy shrugged, and tried desperately to keep the chipper edge in her voice. "Now, boys, as soon as I'm done cleaning up its story time, and then bed."

"Wendy Lady, no!" a few of the little boys shouted out in protest.

"Yes, now twins, you're finished, help get the bedding out. Tootles, you too."

Wendy let out a low humorless chuckle as she turned around to clean up what was left of the black pudding and eggs, how could she be so good at something she so absolutely detested? Her anger flared, causing her cheeks to flush, how dare Peter do this to her?

She took as deep a breath as she could muster and returned to putting the sausage on a larger plate to bring to the Pickaninny Tribe as a gift. She could do this; she could just be the mother all the little boys wanted, isn't that what Peter had brought her here to do that night anyway? To tell stories and coddle children? She had always imagined that Peter had wanted her, but she knew, she was stupid and she was foolish because she knew, that Peter had never and never will have the capacity to love.

She grabbed the plate of blood pudding and climbed up the ladder that led to an outlook. The cold night air slashed at her pale cheeks, Neverland is what she wanted. She couldn't imagine being anywhere else, this was her home. She had always just imagined that it would involve Peter finally excepting her. She would have choked out her first sob, if not for a brilliant shooting star that passed overhead just as she dropped her head in her dirty hands. She smiled faintly and shut her eyes tight, barely audibly Wendy wished for him. For Peter, for her boy, for _The Boy._

/

"Cap'n, Cap'n!" Smee shouted, rushing toward the Captain's quarters on the infamous Jolly Rodger. "Cap'n!" He called once more as he opened the door into the dark room where Captain James Hook was sleeping of a rather tremendous hang over.

"Smee." The dark haired man growled, pulling himself away from the intrusion of light.

"Oh, you'll like this Cap'n, we done got us a Lost Boy, dat scrawny one been giv'n us trouble."

"There are several scrawny Lost Boys and they all cause me trouble."

"Pan's replacement, the little queer." Smee howled in joy, knowing his Captain would be very pleased.

"Slightly Soiled?" Hook mused aloud to himself, allowing the extra minute to run a hair through his mane of onyx curls "Well. Let me see him!"

/

**A/N: Elloooo! I realized in the last chapter that I should properly excuse myself. I have been absent on updating for almost a moth because I was finally taken to an eating disorder clinic, but I'm back and I'll start updating more regularly. For those of you also reading IN The Deep, I'm sorry but I'm waiting until I catch up with Supernatural to update. Reviews? Your love can guilt me into updating faster :3**


	11. Chapter 11

**THIS IS AN IMPORTANT WARNING. LIKE REALLY IMPORTANT**

**I will recap at the beginning of the next chapter if you wish to skip. **

** THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS: RAPE,SEXUAL ABUSE OF CHILDREN, AND CRUDE LANGAUGE. VERY GRAPHIC.**

Michael remembered idly the first time he had come to Neverland, he shook his head at the thought, and knew there had never been that much fire. He brushed himself off, noting that he had landed in sand, and that despite the fire he had accumulated as he fell, he was miraculously unburned. He ran a hand through his shoulder length hair and waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He couldn't remember much about the island, he had only really seen the Hallow and the Indian village, so the cool water that lapped at the back of his feet forced him to realize that he was near neither, and was quite lost.

He looked around, the brilliant stars shone brighter than Michael could ever remember them doing back in London, and he allowed their unfaltering glow to light the world around him.

He turned around and was startled by the immenseness of the ocean that was spread out before him. He turned back again to get a better look at the land where he had fallen and smiled, though he could not see any of the places he remembered, he had conveniently landed right where he needed to be. Cannibal Cove.

Jumping in the soothing water, Michael swam towards the menacing ship. He held his breath as he came towards the thing, looking at the light pouring out of small cannon holes. Then, piercing the night like a knife slicing through water, a high pitched scream broke into a sob from inside the ship. Michael's blood ran cold. He knew that choosing the Pirates as his partners wasn't the safest decision, but he didn't remember them as being truly awful, only Captain Hook, and Hook was dead. Suddenly, he remembered he could fly and moved to hover outside a cannon hole, moving to see which one gave him the best view of what was happening. It took him just a moment to get his bearings and realize just what was happening.

He proceeded to retch quietly as he laid his eyes on the on goings of the Jolly Rodger.

/

There was a boy, skinnier than what could possibly be healthy, with shaggy black hair, and dark olive-toned skin. He was absolutely covered with lacerations, huge gashes that ran in every direction across his body. The boy was laid across a wooden table, his pale rump positioned high in the air.

"Look at this boy, he's 'ard for us. He wants it, the wanton slut." A rather drunk, and large, Pirate hollered, his backwards hands desperately grasping at the poor boy's behind. "Hope you din' expect Ol' Petey to save, ye, he's brought that bitch back. He din' need ye, not like Noodler needs ye." The Pirate grunted as he forcefully entered the small boy from behind. The boy shuddered and let out one more scream that transformed into a gut wrenching sob. Other Pirates cat called form around them and slung their own taunts and slurs at the crying boy.

"Faggot." Bill Jukes hissed into the boy's ear before pulling his pants down and roughly pushing himself into the boy's mouth. He took another large swing of the drink.

/

Michael became sick again.

He felt awful, but he couldn't watch any longer, and he couldn't interfere or it would ruin his plans. Michael flew up to the deck of the ship, packing away the small part of his innocence he thought he had left and burying it somewhere deep within himself, along with the shattered remains of his pride.


	12. Chapter 12

There was a scraggly precession of Pirates on the board, cleaning their fingernails with their knives and drinking their rum in small desperate sips. They didn't care for little boys. Michael landed upon the deck with a thud, and immediately regretted his not having any sort of weapon.

"I'm here to see Hook." He commanded, hands on his hips.

"Haha, the Cap'ns a bit busy, but I'm sure they'd loves ta see ya underneath."

"Hilarious. Where is he?"

"We oaughta gut ya, ya little brat."

"This is tiresome." Michael sighed and flew over the grumbling Pirates' heads and towards the Captain's quarters. "Hook!" He shouted, his breast bone vibrating with the force of his voice.

There was a brief silence, no one on the deck moved and there was no noise below. Then, Hook opened the door, a sword in his good hand. "And who, might you be?" The loathsome Pirate questioned, a small smirk placed in the corner of his thin mouth.

"I want Pan, I want him dead."

Hook considered this, taking in the appearance of the boy. Long hair, with shag in the front and no order to be seen, gangly and tall with an Adam's apple that reviled the size of the plum, he was definitely too old to be a lost boy. "I still, beg, the queation. Who are you, my dear man?"

Michael cringed at Hook's saccharine voice "Michael Nicolas Darling, Pan stole my sister."

/\

It was the way she danced as if she had no abandon, the way his pipe seemed to wrap its sweet tune around her body and cradle her as she swung her hips. Peter had never been so transfixed by just simple body movement in his life. He ached for her, in ways he never knew he could. His body felt as if it was all one heart, sputtering and thumping with each step she took to the music he was creating. His distraction forced him to pull the reeds away from his lip, and his body immediately felt dread as she stopped her dance.

"Oh, Peter, you are simply the most marvelous reed player. It's as if the wind is singing to us." She sighed, and took one last twirl. Peter, noticing his opportunity, stepped closely to her as she was dancing, pressing his hand gently against her forearm.

"Can you explain something, Wendy?" He whispered, and pulled her into him.

"What?" She smiled, Peter was worried by the light in her eyes, for it seemed she was unaware of the _feelings_ he seemed to be… _feeling_.

"When you dance I… I have… grown up feelings." Peter whispered the last part, so that the few lost boys still getting ready to sleep in the other room couldn't hear him.

She wondered idly what kind of grownup feelings he meant but when she finally allowed herself to make eye contact, something she had been avoiding since the other night when she had said that dreaded word, there was a hunger there she had never imagined her Peter could feel.

"I was wondering what you remember about… the day at the beach?" He finally managed; it was hard for him to look at her. One part of him was screaming to be touched by, and to touch, Wendy; the other part shuddered at the implication.

"Quite a bit, I'm afraid." She breathed into his neck from where he had embraced her.

"No- I was just–" He took a deep breath, the scent of her making his head spin. She smelled of honey and lilacs and his mind wandered to the small part of him that remembered her taste…

"What, Peter?" She asked quietly, politely ignoring his growing affection.

"Oh, Wendy, I'm confused." He admitted begrudgingly, and tried his best to bashfully give some space between their hips.

"About what? About… this?" Boldly, Wendy caressed the protrusion from his leaves.

Peter shuddered and abruptly pulled away from her "No! I don't know… I just… Sometimes I feel like me, and sometimes I feel like, well it's me but a sad me, an angry me. I think it's because the other me is grown but… he thinks such dark things Wendy…"

The reminder of what he had witnessed in the other Peter's mind made his excitement flee, and he wanted to sink back into Wendy's arms; so when she collected him, pressing her nose into the crook of his neck, he sighed in contentment. He didn't know which Peter enjoyed her company more, but her soft breathing on his collar bone as she trailed small kisses across the length of it was more enticing than any adventure with Pirates.

"Would you like to talk about the awful things?"

Peter didn't feel like talking about anything, so he lifted her in his arms and brought his nose to her long russet waves.

"Peter." She allowed herself to chuckle, but her whole body tensed with apprehension. She was unsure whether she could find it in herself to be so close to him, so soon after he had rejected her so harshly. "Peter, please?"

He let her down gently, but held her close. "I like the way you feel against me." He admitted, and tried to pull her closer. And he did, he did like the way she felt against him very much. It was pleasant, the warmth, and held a softness he wasn't quite familiar with. He felt, however, that given the chance he would enjoy being close to her more often. He particularly enjoyed the way her chest curved out to meet him, the soft mounds pressing firmly below his own chest.

"Peter, really, it's… inappropriate, with the boy's right next door."

"How is it inappropriate?"

"To be… touching me."

"I just want to hold you near me." He admitted, not letting her go, his tanned brow furrowed.

"Peter." She was compelled to keep the words to herself, they sounded nasty even in her own mind, but they bubbled over so freely. "I wish only to be held by someone who loves me, not someone who... not by someone who cannot love." Once they were said, Wendy felt resigned to sleeping in the quarters with the lost boys. She knew that it was mean, to hold Peter's own words against him, but who was she to be played with like a toy?

"I-I do…" Peter let his arms drop from around her, but did not move away, allowing his head to stay buried in her neck. "I love you because that is how you wish it." He murmured "I wish to do anything for you. Is that love? If I could," He lifted his arms up again and cupped her face between his rough hands "I would look upon your face for the rest of forever. Is that love? I would die for you, kill for you… I would live… as a man for you. Is- is that love?"

Wendy cast her eyes to the floor; she no longer wished to meet his intense gaze. She wanted to brazenly for that to be the love she was looking for, but in truth, she was not quite sure how to define love. "I believe that love is…"

Peter pressed his lips to hers gently; his green eyes open with curiosity. He liked her face. He had no other way to describe this to himself, but he did. He liked her creamy skin, and her little upturned nose, he even enjoyed the way her brow crinkled when she shut her eyes. _She has a good face._ He concluded, before closing his eyes and encircling her waist with his arms.

"Oh, Peter." She sighed when she felt her feet lift off the ground.

"Do you wish to share the bed? If not I can sleep in Slightly's bed."

"No… Mothers and Fathers do share a bed."

Peter smiled brightly and he watched her very good face for a moment before they hit the ceiling with a little bump.

Wendy laughed, and Peter kissed her open mouth, wanting to capture the little bell that rang when she was amused.

"It seems as though someone is thinking very happy thoughts." She continued, and pressed her lips more heartily into his smile.

They floated down to the floor after Wendy had thoroughly explored every inch of Peter's willing mouth as his hands found their way to the soft flesh hiding underneath Wendy's top. He hesitated at her rib cage, certain that if he moved his quivering hands any farther Wendy would pull away from him.

Their feet hit the ground and Wendy did pull away, and she headed towards the large bed Peter had hanging from the wooden ceiling.

She pulled the straps and the ropes of her leaves away from her shoulders, her faze burning crimson like her hair as she felt her chest exposed, then her hips, and finally her leaves were around her ankles. She jumped onto his bed, as he stood struck into stillness, and shimmed herself under the soft fur covers.

_There's nothing to be embarrassed by, you silly girl. _Wendy admonished herself. _He loves you, which means he loves your body, too._

Pan, shaking while he did so, slipped out of his own leaves and clumsily made his way onto the bed.

Wendy pressed their bare bodies together, and reveled in the warmth of their skin together. She was finally with her Peter. Finally.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N Hey babies, I know it's been a long time, and I'm reeeeallll sorry. I have Bulimia and ended up getting put in a clinic again and I'm sorry but they don't give us access to the internet. Then, I joined an RP on Tumblr and it's my life now. So here's a depressing chapter to remind you how much of an asshole I am. Not that you needed much reminding…**

Peter lost the ability his breathe when their bodies touched, her silky skin against his tanned calloused skin. He felt a flash of lightening in his stomach and pressed his lips against hers.

"Wendy." He murmured against her lips. "Wendy Lady." He dropped his head to drag kisses along her collar bones, wanting to press his lips against every part of her he could. He twisted their legs together so he pressed his thigh against the warmth between her legs. Wendy ground back against him, gasping at the feeling she hadn't quite expected. She brought her hands to his hair, and ran her fingers through his tangled curls. Under the covers Wendy continued rubbing her self along his leg, and beads of sweat started to form on her legs as the friction caused the trapped heat to swell. Wendy's body was responding in a way she had never expected, of course she understood the health class basics, but she never figured it would feel… like this.

He wrapped his arms around her torso, pulling her body as close as he possibly could. His hardness was pressed between them, rubbing against her soft stomach. Groaning, he brought his lips to hers again, capturing her kiss, and rubbing against her entirely. Peter licked her bottom lip and she granted him entrance, letting their tongues dance.

"Peter, let's…" She allowed her hands to leave his hair and trailed them down his arms, finally finding her way to his length. "Let's just."

"Not yet." He smiled and let her rub him softly for a moment before turning her unto her back, he moved one hand to cup her breast and then put his leg back between hers.

"What do you mean not yet?" She murmured, trailed kisses down his neck, and lifted her arms to latch them back into his hair.

_Wendy! _A dark voice from her memories screamed her ear. _Wendy, what are you doing?_ It continued to berate her. For a moment it was silent again, and Wendy hesitantly brought her lips back to Peter's hoping he hadn't seen her fear.

Peter having, of course, seeing the terror that flashed over her face pulled himself away from her plying lips. "What's wrong, Wendy?" He wondered whether he's made a mistake with the way he was touching her, but the sad older Peter felt like he hadn't.

Wendy wasn't aware of Peter's soft questions, because she was no longer laying on the bed next to him. Well, her body was still intertwined with his, but her eyes had developed a faraway look reminiscent of when her Grandfather would speak of his service in WWII.

"Wendy?" He tried again, but Wendy Darling was missing. Again.

_The was a faint trickle of leaking pipes in the background, that Wendy could just make out over the grunting and heavy breathing of the large man on top of her. _

Peter watched as her face grew a shade of white he associated with the freshly fallen snow around Hang man's tree. He moved off of her, rolling onto his side, but her fingers were still latched in his hair, and against the better judgment of his hair follicles she was pulled along with him.

"_Hurry up, Jukes." An angry voice hissed from behind a wall "Hook'll want her when he's done with The Boy." The man, Jukes, growled and thrust himself roughly in and out of her and she felt like she was being torn apart. She couldn't move, so she concentrated on the drip of the leaking pipes and started to tell a story of a pirate named Jukes, every inch of him tattooed. _

Peter watched as Wendy began to curl in on herself, and began to panic. He couldn't get the lost boys because she was naked, but they would be no help anyway. He clasped onto her cheeks, and in a voice so deep he sounded like a real man he began to chant "I love you, Wendy. I love you." Her crystal blue eyes were still open, and tears had begun to slip down her cheeks as another memory resurfaced.

"_Hello, Wendy Lady." The dirty boy smiled, and stopped fidgeting with the chain around his ankle as she was shoved into the fake bedroom. In all accounts it was a real bedroom, with a white dresser, vanity, and matching white night stands. There was a tall four poster bed piled high with every stuffed animal imaginable, it had a soft down red comforter and pillows with white slips. She had been instructed against, and rebuked for, talking to The Boy. She kept her mouth shut, but had long since lost her fear of when she went into this room with The Boy. She allowed herself to think his forbidden name, quietly even though she knew no one could hear her thoughts "Hello, Peter." She thought, and smiled at the floor. This room meant that is she did what she was supposed to, Michael and she could eat. Being here with Peter, or any of the younger boys, was much better than when she was with the men._

Peter caressed her cheeks and kissed her forehead and wiped away her tears, but none of that did anything to make Wendy move. His mind raced and he tried to imagine someone, anyone who would know how to deal with Wendy when she was acting like this, his mind went immediately to Tink, but he didn't know if he could trust her with Wendy. Tiger Lilly, he decided and pressed one last gentle kiss to Wendy's forehead before slipping into his leaves and bolting out the door, heading for the Indian Village.


	14. Chapter 14

When Peter entered the Indian encampment, he noticed Tiger Lilly immediately. From behind, she looked the same as she always did; Inky black hair pulled back in a braid and her sun kissed skin stretched tautly over toned muscles but when she turned around he could see that she had grown up just like Wendy. She was sitting around the fire, the sun had set over two hours ago, with a few of the warriors and her father, and the flames cast a warm haze over her skin.

"Tiger Lilly." He cried as he attempted to land near her, but he was so out of practice and so distraught that he fell to his knees.

She leapt to her feet, dagger drawn and ready to attack "Pan?" She gargled in her heavily accented English.

"I need your help I-It—" Two spearmen came up on his sides and jabbed the air around him warily.

Tiger Lilly shouted something, waving them off. She dropped down to her knees and cupped his cheeks in her hands, encouraging him to continue with her eyes.

He stood up shakily, using her as support and tried to wipe his tears away without looking too obvious. "Wendy Lady is back." He announced in the language he couldn't have possibly known. "She is…" He struggled to imagine a way to describe her, but he wasn't sure what she was. "Sick." He finished and his voice faltered. "I don't know what's wrong with her." He admitted, and his neck started bobbing between he's shoulders and tears pushed against the backs of his eyes. It was incomprehensible, he had never wanted so deeply in his life, than to sink into the ground and become dirt. "I think it's my fault."

"How long has she been sick?" Tiger Lilly asked, switching to her language without hesitation.

Peter grasped her upper arms and cried "Just now! We were…" His face flushed, but he was too worried to have much more of a reaction "touching, and she stopped moving." He admitted, and his Adam's apple trembled with the force of his held in sob. He couldn't decide, at that moment, what was worse; that Wendy was in trouble, or that he couldn't help her.

Tiger Lilly nodded, and chewed on her dark lower lip, thinking "A sqaw." She announced. She shook her head as if convincing herself of her decision a motioned for Peter to follow. "A Sqaw and a healer." She continued, and touched the back of an elderly woman who was sitting by a fire surrounded by other women.

Leaning close to the woman, Tiger Lilly spoke in a voice that was just barely more than breathing into the woman's ear. Peter had no idea what was being said, but he tried to put on his most pitiful expression, letting his lower lip push ahead, and his bright green eyes shine. The Sqaw looked over at him, scrutinizing him with intense dark eyes, she stood up and slowly made her way over to Peter. She was mumbling something under her breath that Peter didn't recognize, but Tiger Lilly's face flushed a deep red. He looked between the two ladies, not understanding what was happening at all and was at a loss for words as the Sqaw pushed passed him as if she was making for the Hallow.

"I'll fly us, it will be faster." He announced, taking to the air.

"I've lived too long to die like a fool, Pan, I'll walk on the ground the way I was meant to." She grumbled and continued her slow shuffle towards the forest.

"But-" Peter gulped and followed after the old woman.

/

Unfortunately, back at the tree house he had left mere moments ago, Hook had found someone who knew how to locate Lost Boy Hallows, and was now entering the small den with a wicked smile. "Oh- isn't this just quaint." He cooed as he followed behind his pirates, watching them with pleasure as they rounded up the boys quickly, and tied them to each other. The young man who had helped them stood at his side, eyes searching frantically, looking for his sister. "Michael Darling, you must calm down." He tsked, encircling the boy's wrist with his hook.

"I only lead you here to find Wendy." Michael Darling growled.

Hook rolled his periwinkle eyes and retracted his hook. "Then by all means, find her." Walking back to where he had entered "Smee," He called, as he watched Michael run off "Bring me the note."

Michael pushed the bark that separated the rooms open and saw Wendy, unseeing eyes opened towards the ceiling, he gasped. "What has Pan done?" He started towards her but was grabbed from behind. One of the larger Pirates had hooked his arms under Michael's armpits and was holding him back from his unconscious sister. "Hook!" He screamed, the sound making his throat raw.

Casually cleaning his ear with his pinkie finger, and smiling steadily, Hook entered the room. "You seem upset, but then… you did make a deal with Pirates, Michael Darling, did you expect us to be good to our word?" He crooned and walked over to where Wendy had started trembling on the large bed. Now Michael could clearly see her pale unblemished skin… everywhere.

A roar had started deep within his stomach and he thrashed against the bulky pirate to no avail, hot tears of rage rolling down his cheeks "Don't touch her you piece of shit." He sobbed. How could he have let this happen? First, it seems, Pan takes advantage of her, and now Hook? "You bastard." He let out one final force of all his effort, before finally falling limp.

"Don't act surprised." Hook drawled as he made his way over to Wendy and used his hook to pull the covers away, revealing her soft body.

Michael closed his eyes.

"She'll need something to wear." Hook whispered softly, and pulled his own cloak off to cover her up. "Put the scrawny brat in her place."

Shocked by Hook's act of kindness he almost didn't let the words sink in, until the dragged out what seemed to be the corpse of Slightly Soiled. The outraged cries of the lost boys reached him even though they were being dragged out of the fort. Slightly was covered in wounds, and if it weren't for the blood that dripped from the cuts on his ribcage when he bled, Michael would have thought the boy dead. This was all his fault. He bit his lip and let more tears stream down his cheeks when his eyes ran down the boy's body, to the varying levels of dried blood around his anus and crusted onto his legs. This was all his fault. Michale watched in horror as Hook pulled Wendy, covered by his cloak, into his arms,  
>and planted a soft kiss on her forhead. "This would have been impossible without you, I applaud your treachery."<p>

It was all his fault.


	15. Chapter 15

D.I Ayers moved through the mostly empty grave yard with a heavy heart. She would be returning to the same plot of this hallowed ground for the second time in less than a month. Michael had been buried right next to Wendy.

Fitting, she thought as she reached the small group. Michael Nicolas Darling's funeral was less of an event than his sisters. He'd never been good friends with anyone at school, and his inability to control his temper meant most people he knew found him almost reprehensible. Only a small contingent of the police force and his immediate family members found themselves present and the tears were generally held back. His mother looked a wreck. Her brown hair was prematurely streaked with greys and her green eyes were downcast and tear filled. The two women made eye contact for a moment, silently watching the other before speaking. "

Emily." D.I Ayers breathed, stepping forward and wrapping her toned arms around the grieving mother. Emily Darling allowed herself to go slack in the arms of the Detective Inspector that had comforted her so many times before, and suddenly she felt so incredibly weak, she needed to be done with this damned grave yard… but her heart was here. Her eldest, and only, daughter, and her sweet babe lie in the ground before their time and there was nothing Emily could do stop the tears that overflowed at the thought. She was well aware Coorina had no problem with the wetness on her suit, Emily had been instructed to cry on that shoulder more times than was proper, and she certainly couldn't hold back now. Emily was overwhelmed and her body shook with the sobs that tore at her throat.

Coorina had lived and breathed this case for almost a year, not only the four months the children had been missing, and it was the truth the loss struck her as deeply as if they'd been her own children. She cried for them, she cried for Emily, and even pompous George who stood apart silently mourning for his children, she cried for John, who watched as his only brother's coffin was placed in the ground next to his only sisters, and she cried for herself, but only a little.

It's important to note the Michael Nicolas Darling had been 8 at the time of the abduction. While noting this, we must also ally ourselves with the fact that most of his memories of the occasion are tinted with the tales of Neverland spun by his honeyed tongued older sister. All except for his memory of Peter Pan. He vividly remember Peter promising to send them help, and never returning.

So when Michael awoke to the sound of Pan's voice, he could feel his blood begin to boil underneath his skin. He tried to speak, but found his mouth was tinged with the taste of blood where the pirate had beat him in the head and knocked him out, he contented himself on struggling to sit up and face the boy without words. He was met instead by the soothing touch of the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen as she began speaking to him in a rough and unfamiliar language. She turned to Pan and in a heavy accent she cried. "Boy, another boy." Her tan face was lined with worry as she led him to the bed next to Slightly. At the smell Michael began to gag. It may have been guilt as well.

Peter marched over with fire in his emerald eyes and grabbed Michael by the shirt collar "Are you a Pirate?' He demanded, fiercely.

"No!" Michael tried to wriggle free of the older boy's grasp, but his head made him feel woozy when he moved. "I Came here for Wendy!"

"Then you're a pirate! Where'd you stupid Codfish take Wendy Lady?" Peter gripped onto Michael tighter, desperation tightening his fingers.

"Oi!" Michael cried as he began to feel Peter's finger nails in his skin. "I was trying to save her from you! The Pirates stole her!"

"Save her... from me? That's ridiculous. Wendy is safe with me." But a shadow crossed over his face and Michael took the moment of hesitation to break free, but fell to the floor.

"What did you do?" The beautiful girl stomps over and places her soft hands on Peter's chest, pushing him away from the younger boy. "He is good help, now we know where she be." Tiger Lilly frowned and sank to the floor to kneel next to Michael, the very scent of her washing away the pain his head.

"He lead them to her." Peter whispered. Tiger Lilly, Michael and the Sqaw who was attending to Slightly looked over at him. He held in his hand a rough piece of ripped parchment.

"You lead the bastards who did this to Slightly to _my Wendy_?" "She's not you Wendy, she hasn't been your Wendy since you abandoned us in that factory."


	16. Chapter 16

The idea that somehow this could be his fault, that somehow it was Peter's fault that Wendy was gone, simultaneously struck him as absurd and completely possible all at the same time. But when he heard Michael accuse him of leaving them in the factory he doubled over as if having been punched. "I never left you." He gagged on the words, holding himself as he looked up at Michael.

"How can you even say that?" Michael screamed, allowing himself to finally feel the anger he had held towards this boy almost his whole life.

"I- I came back for you." Peter whispered, his normally sparkling eyes dull as he stared at some empty spot beyond Michael. "I came back and you three weren't there."

"We were in that dirty building for weeks before the police came." Michael spit out, but before he could move towards the grief stricken Pan, Tiger Lily placed a hand on his shoulder.

"We must work together to retrieve the Wendy Lady." She informed him, her eyes slits as she glared between the two boys. "And we must do it quickly." Letting go of Michael she moved to Peter, and cupped the pale boy's face in her copper hands "Pan." She soothes, "There is no time for weakness. We must rise up and end the evil that has taken Neverland hostage for years."

"There is no Neverland." Peter whispers. Running his hand through a head full of dirty curls, pulling at the roots. "It's all made up. CAN'T YOU SEE SHE MADE IT ALL UP?" He screams and slams those same fists into the wood floor.

"Why would Wendy imagine what happened to Slightly? If this is all so fake why are we still here? Why hasn't all of this evaporated?" Michael growls, but even he has been having a hard discerning between his memories of Neverland and his memories of the dark factory. A factory, that if Neverland exisits, shouldn't be in his memories at all.

"Maybe-" Peter stands up. "We shouldn't be sitting around like this, Sqaw, can you help Slightly heal?"

"What thinks you what I've been doing his whole time." She grumbles as she holds her hands just above some of Slightly's worse injuries.

"Whatever this is, whatever is going on, we sill have to save Wendy." Peter's eyes strayed to Slightly's torn body , and Micheal immediately understood where the older boy's motivation was coming from.

"We can't let that happen to her." Michael let out a strangled sob, and he couldn't help a hand from gripping his shirt tightly.

"Then you should get moving." Tiger Lily growled, crossing her arms across her chest.

Peter nodded solemnly, and looked between the four other people on the room. "To Dead Man's Cove."


End file.
